It’s almost like clockwork – every Spring, no matter how long it’s been since I last posted, I am inspired to write something about the sheer LIFE I experience burgeoning in my garden.

It usually starts with the Gertrude Jekyll roses – because they are early birds and because they smell divine. But even given their undeniable lusciousness, without the back-up chorus – lilacs shyly emerging from their slumber in the shade of the California Pepper, fat water lily buds jostling goldfish in the pond, eager buds covering every rosebush, tiny scrolled buds on the wild nasturtiums creeping under the fence; there’s even a peony bud building momentum in a pot outside my office door – I still might not be motivated to write.

But there is something so primal and yes, so beautiful, about this annual celebration of the life force that I too am awakened from sleep and want to take part.

It’s on days like this that I remember these words of Thich Nhat Hanh:

“The true miracle is not walking on water or walking in air, but simply walking on this earth.”

~ Thich Nhat Hanh

And I am moved to share my gratitude for being among the walking right now, for my garden, and its reminder of the endless generosity of the earth.

I lost my sister Katherine Grace on February 24th. I was privileged to share her last days, her last hours, and the precious minutes of her last breaths. I say privileged not only because she was extremely private and this sharing wasn’t a gift she gave easily, but also because the laying down of life is a sacred time for every human being, and it is always a privilege to be in the presence of the sacred. It’s a time when we are distilled down to the very essence of who we are. My sister fought hard for her life, for her time on this earth, even when she could no longer walk without help. But when it was time to lay it down, she surrendered with all the grace and beauty that defined her.

And as the beauty of new life emerges all around me, I send a silent prayer of gratitude for her life. In some secret way, I can imagine her here still, in my heart, like an unfurling bud that will continue to bloom as long as I walk this generous earth.

To my Kitty Gae, with love.